


leftist unity

by Spooky_Skittles



Category: Centricide (Webseries), Jreg
Genre: Domestic, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Panic, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First AO3 Post, Politics, The Extremes Live Together, qui/quem pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:49:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooky_Skittles/pseuds/Spooky_Skittles
Summary: It took a while, but Commie finally realises exactly how much of an idiot he is.
Relationships: Authleft | Commie/Ancom
Comments: 13
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it was meant to be a crackfic but i ended up taking it seriously yup yup  
> basically, Ancom is Still Ancom and Not Post-Left but the leftist unity song happens anyway bc that song slaps.
> 
> i will update this fic in a decade ahahah get it

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since their last and biggest fight yet. And neither of them was brave enough to apologize. To admit that they were the reason the left was so divided. Instead, they chose to divide it even further.

Commie thought- no, he knew that he was right. I mean, what does that kid know about communism anyway? It’s always about minorities and never about seizing the means of production. The only true act Ancom had done against the bourgeoisie was throwing a brick at a bank. Multiple times. But that wasn’t enough, not for him, at least. He cares about that kid, goddamnit. He just wants the best for Ancom.

“Oh, whatever! Who needs h- no, _quem_. Who needs quem.” He mumbled under his breath, in an attempt to convince himself of this. The ushanka-wearing man was reading his old copy of the Communist Manifesto, with its many highlighted paragraphs from years past. He closed it carefully. His thoughts were being too loud and distracting to let him concéntrate. The book slowly fell from his hands, as Commie relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

The fear of losing Anarkiddy as an ally was _nothing_ compared to the fear of losing quem as a friend.

-

When he woke up, he realised there was a red blanket covering him. The book was placed on the small coffee table.

He lazily reached for the Manifesto and smiled drowsily. His smile fell almost instantly afterwards, as he became suddenly overwhelmed with a strong feeling of heartache. He realised a few things.

One, the blanket had definitely been placed there by Ancom, since Ancap was god-knows-where getting drunk off his ass with Nazi.

Two, he had been acting like an infant. There were still centrists to fight but he had been too busy arguing with Ancom of all people to be concerned about them.

Three, Ancom _cared_ about him.

Qui cared which is why qui was worried and afraid.

Because qui was selfless and brave and strong as all hell and so, so much more. Ancom never stopped surprising him. To say that qui didn't make Commie feel joy mixed with some sort of indescribable bliss would be a blatant lie. He had been a fool for not realising sooner and a complete, egotistical _moron_ for not wanting to understand where qui was coming from.

This fight was pointless. It had to end now. The left had to be unified once again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commie isn't the best at apologies (he sucks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEARS FOLKS im kinda late lol
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!!

Commie inhaled sharply as he knocked on the door. He was fidgeting in his place. He's bad at apologies so this wasn't going to be easy. 

  
As he opened the door, he felt a bit of his restlessness vanish. Ancom’s bedroom fit quems personality like a glove.  
The room had a small wooden desk, a chair, a twin-sized bed and a wardrobe. It was already tiny, but the mess made it seem even tinier. There were clothes and papers scattered on the ground and the desk was filled to the brim with alcohol and other substances that were _definitely_ not legal.

  
Funnily enough, quems collection of pride flags, along with a multitude of banners from demonstrations and riots were intact and perfectly organised, lying in a corner next to Ancom’s iconic baseball bat that had never been used as intended. The posters surrounding the walls were placed with the same attentiveness. He smiled to himself. This is exactly what he expected this place to look like.

  
Qui was sitting cross-legged on the bed, typing on a laptop with a bothered look on quems face. Commie stood there awkwardly for a bit. He cleared his throat which startled Ancom. Qui hadn't heard him come in.

  
“W-Tankie!? Could you knock first?” Qui exclaimed, with a scared-but-also-amused expression on quems face. Commie chuckled. He pointed at the bed, asking for permission with his gesture. Qui understood, as qui put aside the laptop and tapped the spot next to quem. Commie sat on the rigid mattress and winced. He didn't really know what to say, so he decided to improvise for once. The uncertainty and fear were almost paralysing.

  
“Sorry, Anarkiddy” He sighed “For, um, everything. You may not know theory or how to tie your shoes, but… I’m- I'm supposed to teach you, not to get mad at you. I lost my patience and...yeah, that's all I wanted to say I think.”

He hated sounding like this. Vulnerable and small. Ancom was possibly the only person in the whole world who could get his usually authoritative self to be like this. 

He couldn't decide what that made him feel.

  
He scanned the others face. For the first time, Ancom’s expression was inscrutable to Commie _. I fucked up didn't I? Oh god. I fucked up I really_ did. He tried to speak but his throat didn’t want to work. He was panicking.

  
Luckily for him, Ancom’s lips shut him up before he could say anything dumb.

His worries dissipated and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Ancom grabbed the collar of Commie’s shirt and deepened the kiss. At first it was clumsy and rushed, but soon enough, they found their own rhythm. His lips were being bitten in the most careful way possible and he would've sworn that he was melting. Qui was like that, tender but also passionate. He thought about how they will have to make up for all the time they lost fighting, which made him smile into the kiss like an idiot.

He wondered if he had always been this sappy.

After what felt like a lifetime, they pulled apart slowly. Ancom was now flustered and quems usually pale face had turned redder than the USSR flag. Commie was quick to tease. 

“Where did all that confidence from before go, Anarkiddy?” He smirked as he saw quems shy expression turn into a fake-annoyed one

  
“Oh, c'mon! One of us had to do it!” Qui huffed but couldn't keep the act up and burst into laughter. Real, unadulterated happiness seemed to be pouring out of quem and Commie catched himself laughing too.

There was a sort of giddiness contained in a kiss like that, a kiss from people that had been apart from each other for more than what was necessary. It took a while, but Commie finally realises exactly how much of an idiot he _was_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my twitter is @cosmixseul scream at me or sumn.

**Author's Note:**

> im bad at writing so yeah sorry bout that  
> my twitter is @cosmixseul talk to me im lonely


End file.
